


Imagine Going to Dean's Grave After He's Gone to Hell and Seeing Him Crawl Out

by kimstheworst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Horror, Dick Jokes, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Explicit Language, F/M, Innuendo, M/M, Reader-Insert, alternate endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimstheworst/pseuds/kimstheworst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was dead, gone, in the ground and shipped off to hell.  It had been 4 months.  And he wasn't coming back.  Or at least that's the way it was supposed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> repost from my tumblr

4 months. It had been 4 months since Dean had died. Ripped to shreds by invisible claws while you and Sammy had been helpless to save him, pinned to the walls by Lilith’s demon mojo. Fucking demons.

Against everyone’s better judgement you and Sam had buried Dean, or rather, what was left of Dean after the hellhounds had gotten through with him.

4 long months.

 

The last you saw of Sam, he wasn’t good. And you tried to keep track of him, but it’s difficult to do when that someone doesn’t want to be found. No, Sam was off god knows where burying himself in trying to find a way to bring Dean back or burying himself in booze and women. Distractions.

And you, well. You had stuck close, visiting Dean’s grave in the middle of nowhere at least once a week. You couldn’t bring yourself to really leave. Not yet.

So, you crashed at Bobby’s, taking the odd job, but always made it a point to visit what was left of the man you had, in another lifetime, loved, at least once a week. 

Every time you laid flowers on Dean’s grave you had this nightmare flash: Dean’s hand reaching up out of the dirt to grab your wrist, like from the end of Carrie. And he’d drag you back down to Hell with him to punish you for not doing more to save him. For not going off the rails like Sammy had. This week, just like every other week, Dean’s hand had failed to rise from Hell and you had laid that week’s flowers (sunflowers) without incident.

Just as you began to walk away the loudest thing you ever had the misfortune of hearing, ruptured through your body, blasting you into the surrounding trees.

Ears ringing, completely disoriented and hurting from being flung into a pine, you were made vaguely aware that what had previously been forest now looked more akin to a blast zone. Some kind of bomb had gone off. That was the only explanation. 

But if that were true, then why weren’t you burned to a crisp? Why were you only nursing a broken arm, and 2…no, wait… 3 fractured ribs? You tried to stand up. Ouch. Correction: a broken arm, 3 ribs and one broken ankle.

You looked back at Dean’s grave. The marker still stood. What the hell was going on? If you didn’t know better it’s like a sonic boom had gone off with the grave being the origin point. That would be, not impossible, but weird. Then again, look at your life. Weird was the name of the game.

You hobbled to your feet, using a felled branch as a cane. Limping off as fast as you could, away from whatever nasty it was that caused this, you caught some movement. You caught some movement at Dean’s grave. Dean’s dead-body-dead-deadness-grave-supposed-to-be-no-movement-except-in-your-worst-Drag-Me-to-Hell-Evil-Dead-Carrie-and-maybe-just-a-little-bit-of-Buffy-thrown-in-for-good-measure-nightmares-grave.

You know that saying about being “still as the grave”? Boy, were they wrong that day.

You saw a hand scrabble up through the now loose dirt. And the sound of someone screaming joined the ringing in your ears. Who was screaming? And why did your throat suddenly hurt? Oh, wait. You were screaming. That was…that was your scream. Yep.

Your blood turned to ice as you saw Dean Winchester’s, your Dean Winchester’s, head and shoulders rise up out of the ground. 

You were frozen to the spot.

And then you weren’t. 

You were running away as fast as your injured legs could take you. Whatever that thing was, it wasn’t Dean. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Revenant. Ghoul. Demon. Chud. Cleverly located shifter. You weren’t sticking around to find out.

Then you heard it. You heard him.

“Y/N?” Dean choked out. “Y/N. Come back. It’s me. Help.” 

You turned. “Dean?”

He nodded his head. Pain and tears in his eyes. He looked at you like you were Christmas morning. The way he’d always looked at you. It was Dean. The real, original article.

You limped back to him as he struggled to free himself from the earth. You dragged him out the rest of the way and he collapsed onto the ground gasping for air. You kneeled next to him.

For a second you just stared at each other, then he grabbed you around the waist, hugging you. Holding on for dear life. You held him against you, running your hands through his hair. Rocking him as you both cried.

Finally, he gasped out the word “Water”. You nodded in reply.

Shouldering each other’s weight. You both stood up and he looked around for the first time. He saw all the trees felled around his grave. He gave you a total “what the hell?” face and you replied with an “I don’t know” of your own.

You made it to the road and your car. Dean had to drive because of your broken ankle. You managed to find an abandoned gas station not too far from his burial spot. Knowing that the next place for supplies was at least 20 miles away, you did the only thing you could do. You guys broke a window and went inside.

Dean got his water and some food. You hovered in the doorway watching him. He was alive. How?

Dean grabbed his shoulder in pain.

“Ah!”

Finding a mirror, he rolled up his sleeve. Burned into the skin of Dean’s left shoulder was what appeared to be a handprint. You exchanged worried looks. You made your way over to him as he lifted his shirt up to inspect for any other peculiar marks. 

“Babe, there’s nothing. None of your scars, cuts, bruises.” you said “Everything’s gone.”

“So what? Someone did some Gaia earth mother magic and I’m born again?”

You touched his new flesh gently, shaking your head, a worried expression on your face.

Just then the radio and old antenna tv sprang to life blasting static.

“Salt! Now!” ordered Dean. 

You each grabbed salt and set to covering the doorways and windows as fast as you could. You braced yourselves for whatever was coming next. Demons? A ghost? 

Nothing. 

“Let’s get out of here.” You said to Dean.

All the windows burst sending glass flying into the tiny store. Dean pulled you to the ground, protecting you from the flying shrapnel as every glass surface in the place shattered into a million pieces. 

Then, that same sound from before. The high pitched sonic boom sound. The loudest thing you ever heard ripped through your head. Both you and Dean grabbed your ears, trying to keep your brains from exploding. The sound persisted for a good thirty seconds before dissipating.

“What the hell was that?” you screamed.

“I don’t know. But we’re getting as far from here as possible.”

You and Dean hustled out of the store, piled into your car, wiping the broken glass off the car seats and peeled away from the gas station, headed to Bobby’s and safety.


	2. Chapter 2

You had just peeled away from the convenience store as fast as your truck’s wheels would take you, when you decided it was time for answers. And what was the best way to get answers? By gently, but sensitively broaching the topic. Being tactful! Yes, very tactful.

“So…how’s your Summer Vacation going?” Yes. Perfect. You are the queen of tact.

Dean rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“Oh, you know, Hell. How ‘bout yours?”

“You know, the usual. Caught up on Breaking Bad. Started taking yoga. Saw my boyfriend rise from the grave.”

“Yeah, about that.”

“Yeah, about that.” you lobbied back at him.

“What the fuck?”

“I…do not know. I’m guessing Sam? Bobby wouldn’t do that shit. Hell, he wanted to burn you.”

“You should’ve.”

“We couldn’t. I…Me…Sam. We couldn’t.” you confessed.

Dean shook his head. Obviously disappointed in your collective breach of hunter etiquette.

“So, Sam. Not you?”

“I tried. I did. Shamans. Witches. A few psychics. Let me tell you they were a hoot and a half. Of course, tried a few crossroads demons, but they wouldn’t spring you. And after I ganked the 5th one, they just kind of stopped showing up.” 

“It looked like a bomb had gone off where I was” he paused uncomfortably “buried. What was that?”

“You’ll recall our friend from the gas station?”

“How could I forget?”

“Same noise. A bit boomier, if you will, but same noise happened with that.”

“So something followed us from the grave to the gas station.”

“Or never left us.” You grew suspicious, gripped the knife positioned in the holster at your hip and whispered “Christo”.

Dean looked over at you, 110% done. Sorry, incredulous. He looked incredulous.

“Did you just demon check me while I’m driving your truck?”

“…yes…?”

“What would you have done if I were a demon?”

“I have a knife.”

“And I’m driving the car. I could’ve just ran it into a tree and left your ass dying here.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

“Christo. Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? I’m gone for how long and you lose all common sense? All regard for safety?”

Where did he get off? Okay, maybe that whole “christo” thing was stupid, but come on!

“I have not lost all common sense okay? And you know, what if I was like super safety, okay? You’d still be pulling your ass out of that grave and stranded in the middle of nowhere, okay? So you know. Caution to the wind. Sometimes it’s good.”

“Okay. Fine! Yes! Thank you for being there!”

“You’re welcome.” you said with as much venom as you could muster for the love of your life returning from the grave. Which, you know, wasn’t that much.

“4 months.”

“4 months, what?” Dean questioned.

“You were gone 4 months.”

“I was gone 4 months?” Dean sounded shocked.

“Yeah. Why? How long was it for you?”

“I uh. I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything” Dean said hesitantly.

“Okay…” you narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious, but choosing to save that topic for another day. One that didn’t involve supersonic blasts and resurrections.

“I can’t believe you watched Breaking Bad without me!” Dean said, finally, changing the subject.

“Sorry.”

You sank into your seat. It was going to be a long ride to Sioux Falls.

________________________________________________ 

Nine hours later, you pulled up to Bobby’s house, your truck puttering to a stop outside his front door.

Dean helped you out of the truck and up the porch steps, since you were still injured from the earlier phenomena. However, Dean did not follow you inside the house when you entered. You had both agreed it would be better if you went in first to give Bobby a little advanced warning. He was, after all, in his heart attack years.

“Hey, Bobby.” You said, hobbling into the house. Bobby was at his usual perch, 3 empties on his desk, researching the freak of the week.

“Hey, Y/N.” He hadn’t even raised his head when he said hello but sensing your lingering presence he finally looked up.

“Something you wanted to talk about?” then noticing your injuries “What the hell happened?” 

“Okay, so don’t freak out or get angry.” You warned.

“You know just you sayin’ that is puttin’ me on edge?”

“Yeah, well, I umm found something and I brought it home.”

“It better not be a cat.”

“It’s not a cat.” Dean said as he crept in the door.

“Surprise…” you said, plastering on an awkward apologetic smile.

Bobby stumbled out of his chair toward the doorway and Dean, befuddled by the current situation.

“What.. how…?” Bobby stumbled over his words and emotions. A tear coming to his eye. He pulled Dean in for a hug.

Then Bobby, ever the sentimentalist, slashed at him with a silver knife.

“Ow!” Dean screamed “Not a shifter!”

“Then you’re a revenant! Or a demon!” Bobby countered.

He splashed holy water from a flask into Dean’s face. Dean spit it out.

“Not a demon or a revenant, either.” Dean explained.

“It’s him. It’s Dean” you reassured Bobby.

“How? What? Y/N, what did you do?” Bobby questioned. Angry.

“I didn’t do anything okay. He’s…he came back to life. I…nothing. I did nothing.”

“Explain what happened now. Both of you.”

You and Dean explained everything you knew. The blast. The resurrection. The whole thing at the gas station. When it was all over, Dean had a question of his own.

“So, it was Sam, right? It had to be?”

“I guess so.” Ventured Bobby.

“Well where is he?”

You and Bobby looked at each other, daring the other to field that one. You lost.

“Dean, we don’t know where Sammy is.”

Dean rose from his seat, incredulous.

“You don’t know? You don’t know, where Sam is? Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?”

“Dean! We tried! You can’t find someone who doesn’t want to be found.” You said trying to calm him down.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

About five minutes and three lies later, Dean had figured out Sam’s location. Apparently, he’d set up a phone under the name “Wedge Antilles”. When you questioned Dean how he’d known that Sam would use that name he countered with a simple “What don’t I know about that kid.” From there he tracked it to a hotel in Pontiac, Illinois.

“That’s where we just came from. That’s where you were buried.” You volunteered even though it was obvious.

“Sammy, what did you do?” Dean wondered aloud.

_____________________________________________

Another 9 hour drive to Pontiac later Bobby, Dean and you arrived at the motel where Sam had stashed himself.

Dean took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He waited for his little brother to answer the door. His little brother did not answer the door.

A giant-eyed, half naked brunette answered the door, obviously expecting the pizza man. Why one would answer the door for a pizza man without pants on, was beyond you, but that was neither here nor there. 

For a second it seemed as though, this was the wrong room, but then Sam came out of the bathroom also expecting it to be the pizza man. Never expecting it to be his recently reanimated brother, Sam stopped dead in his tracks.

“Heya, Sammy” Dean volunteered in the understatement of the year, entering the room and embracing Sam. 

Sam hugged him for a second then slashed at him with a silver knife.

“Hey!” Dean yelled.

“Who are you!” countered Sammy.

“Oh, like you didn’t do this?”

“What?” Sam was genuinely confused. 

“Sammy, it’s him!” you said stepping between the boys. “It’s him” you assured him putting a hand on his chest. Damn! He got a lot firmer since the last time you saw him. What had he been up to?

“Already did all the tests.” Provided Bobby.

The brunette who had been expecting pizza, hustled toward the door, now fully dressed. 

“It seems like you need some space.”

“Yeah.” Sam said snapping back to reality and out of his head. “I mean. I guess you should probably go.”

“Call me.” She said.

“Sure thing, Kimmy.”

“It’s Kristy” the woman corrected. 

As the formerly pantsless brunette pushed passed you, your eyes locked and you could’ve sworn there was something familiar about her. And you could almost smell sulfur. But then she was gone and you didn’t give it a second thought. Bigger things, after all.

“So, what’d it cost this time, Sammy? Your soul? The souls of ten thousand babies?”

“That’s a lot of babies” You said under your breath.

“What’s it come to now?” Dean continued.

“What, Dean? I didn’t do this. Believe me, I tried, but no one would take the deal.”

“I know, right?! What the fuck?” you interjected, a little too brightly.

The three guys stared you down. Not appropriate, Y/N. 

“I’ll just be over here.” You hovered into the corner.

“So, if you didn’t do this? Who did?” Dean wondered.

Sam shrugged, his eyes more than a little concerned. 

“Seems to be the question of the day.” Offered Bobby.

Bobby decided to call in a favor from an old friend. Her name was Pamela and she was a psychic a few hours out from Pontiac. Back in the car – this time you rode with Bobby while Sam and Dean rode in the Impala. You had wanted to go with the boys, but 

Bobby reminded you it would be good for the two of them to catch up and work out a few things on the drive over, hopefully sparing the two of you from witnessing later drama and more importantly, whining. You couldn’t argue with that and were even thankful for riding with Bobby when just before pulling out of the hotel parking lot you heard Dean already leaning into Sam for “douching up” the impala with an ipod jack. 

Yeah, you could skip that.

You arrived at Pamela’s house in the morning. You were expecting an older woman who dressed exclusively in tie dyed gypsy skirts from the nature store and reeked of patchouli. You were not expecting the woman who answered the door. She was a rocker chick wearing the tightest jeans you have ever seen. You basically had to pick Dean’s jaw off the ground and slap his ass to stop him from staring. Okay, she was hot, but, come on.

Pamela noticed both of the boys noticing her, that much was apparent, but she was willing to help, so that made her okay in your book. Leading you into her living room, she bent down to pick up a record, flashing a tramp stamp emblazoned with the name of an ex. 

“Who’s Jesse?” asked Dean. You hit him to stop prying. He gave you a ‘what?’ look.

“Well, it wasn’t forever.” Said Pamela.

“His loss.” Dean said. 

“It could be your gain.”

Sam laughed from across the room.

“Yours too.” That shut him right up.

Noticing how close you and Dean were standing, Pamela reappraised her offer. “Or we could make it a three way” she said winking at you and brushing your arm as she passed by.

Dean turned to you “Hey, I’m game if you are.”

“Sit.” You said sternly, pointing toward the table.

All situated at the séance table Pamela explained what she knew so far.

“So, I’ve Ouija’d my way through a dozen spirits. So far, nobody knows who broke you out or why?”

“Well, that’s comforting” said Dean

“It’s okay. That’s why we’re here. To get to the bottom of this.”

“How?” you asked.

“Well, séance, obviously” said Pamela.

“We’re not summoning anything, right?” asked Bobby, concerned.

“Oh no. I just want to get a peek at it.”

“Ok then. Let’s do this.” Said Dean.

“Right. Take each other’s hands.” Pamela instructed.

You all clasped hands, you holding Dean’s right hand, Bobby holding yours and so on. 

“And I’ll need something the mystery monster touched.”

At that Dean reluctantly rolled up his left sleeve. The mystery handprint was still puffed up from his arm. It looked painful. Even Sam winced when he saw it. Guess they didn’t cover that on the ride to Pamela’s.

Pamela touched Dean’s scar and started chanting:

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

Pamela’s tv flipped on blasting static. The lights started to flicker.

“I invoke, conjure, and command….Castiel? No, sorry Castiel. I don’t scare easy.”

“Castiel?” questioned Dean.

“Are you sure you’re pronouncing that right?” you asked Pamela. She shushed you.

“It’s just that the name sounds really forced. Maybe it’s more like Cast-yel? You know?” Now everybody had one eye open and were silently telling you to shut the fuck up.

“I almost got it. I command you, show me your face!” ordered Pamela.

“Oh, maybe you shouldn’t…” you worried.

“Show me your face now!”

The flames on all the candles in the room shot up ten feet. The television and radio blew out and exploded. (Those were gonna be expensive to replace). Most terribly, Pamela screamed one of the worst screams you have ever heard (definitely in the top five) as her eyes flew open with a white hot flame and were burnt out of her skull by whatever she had seen. 

Stunned silence filled the room.

“So, do we like…leave a tip?” you asked.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so it wasn’t all bad. So, Dean had risen from the grave under dubious circumstances. So, something bad is following him around and smashing glass and blowing up TVs. So, you just saw a woman get her eyes burned out of her skull by some mystical whosywhatty. At least this was a really good waffle.

You’d stopped at a diner not far from Pamela’s, you, Dean and Sam. Close enough to be of help if Bobby needed you to do anything while he was at the hospital with Pamela, but far enough away if you needed to skedaddle, putting as much distance between you and this “Castiel” as possible.

You stuffed your face with chocolate and whipped cream drenched waffle. Dean stared at you, his plate of fries untouched. “How are you eating right now?” Swallowing a hunk of served-all-day breakfast food (woo-hoo!) you retorted “Tragic phenomena makes me hungry, what can I tell you?”

 

Sam walked in setting off a cacophony of jingles from the door. He was just getting off the phone.

“Yeah, will do Bobby.”

Putting the phone away he grabbed a seat at your table.

“How’s she doing?” inquired Dean.

“He says they’ve got her in the ICU, but they think she’ll be okay. You ever see anything like that before?” Sam wondered.

“This is one hell of a ruthless demon we’re dealing with here, Sammy.”

“Dealing…do you think this is Crowley?”

You interjected, mouthful of waffle.

“I’d just like to point out that, whatever it was that did this to her, did warn her to stop…so”

“Wow, be more of a dick, Y/N” Dean chastised you.

“Listen, I’m not saying it was her fault, just, when you poke the creature don’t be surprised when it pokes back. It warned her.”

“Gotta love a warning shot straight to the head.”

“Okay, can we focus here for a second.” Sam raised his hands attempting to put a détente to the fight brewing between you and Dean. “I followed some demons to town. So, we go after them. Somebody’s gotta know something about this.”

Just then your waitress took the last seat at your table. 

“You angling for a tip? Because this one’s taken” you said patting Dean’s shoulder “And that one has, at best, a spotty track record.”

Sam shot you a low level bitch face.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were looking for us.” The waitresses eyes flashed over demon black (You knew you smelled sulfur!) as did the eyes of the cook (You knew that waffle was sinfully delicious!) and the guy at the counter (You knew his clothes were too nondescript for him to not be hiding something!). 

“Dean. To hell and back. Aren’t you a lucky duck?” said the demon waitress.

“That’s me.”

“So, you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh? Tell me. What makes you so special?”

“I like to think it’s because of my perky nipples.”

“And, his hammer.” You sank back into Dean as he put his arm around you.

“The hammer is my penis.” Dean flashed the demon a crooked smile and a wink. “I don’t know. Wasn’t my doing. I don’t know who pulled me out.”

“Lying’s a sin you know.” the demon waitress countered.

“I’m not lying, but if you wouldn’t mind enlightening me, Flo…”

The previously our waitress, presently a demon (oh boy if she thought she was getting tipped over 15% she had another thing coming) seethed. “Mind your tone with me, boy. I’ll bring you back to Hell, myself.” 

That was it. The last straw. She had ruined your awesome waffle time and threatened to drag Dean to Hell. Nuh-uh that was too much. It was clobbering time. Both you and Sam jumped out of your chairs. You grabbed the waitress, smashing a vial of holy water into her face, while Sam tackled the guy from the counter. This left Dean with the cook. He decided to go the table salt to throat route. The waitress jammed her hand into your already bruised ribs, sending you doubled over to the ground. You kicked out her legs, but she only tossed you into booth using her demon mojo. But Sam or Dean must have whispered the exorcism incantation at lightning speed because before the brawl really had a chance to heat up all three demons had smoked out of their vessels. 

From behind the grill, Dean dropped the now empty vessel of the cook. “What the hell was that? Sam, did you do the incantation or…what is going on?”

“Yeah. That was me.” Sam confessed.

“What did you do it with your mind? Are you Harry Potter?” you asked struggling out of the booth.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Dean helped you up as you limped toward Sam.

“Just, uh, picked it up.” Sam said not at all evasively. “We should get out of here in case they have friends.”

The three of you set to work, dragging the victims to the kitchen (you checked them and they were still alive) and shuttering the restaurant so no one else would come in. 

Then you hit the road.

Upside of this whole situation- you didn’t have to pay for your food. So, you could put that in the win column.

_____________________________________________ 

You, Dean and Sam piled into the hotel room. Sam sank into a chair and immediately started typing away on his computer while you and Dean collapsed onto the bed. 

Noticing the mirror above the bed, Dean couldn’t help, but comment. “You know what we could that?”

“Summon Bloody Mary?” you joked.

“Don’t even kid about that.” 

From his chair in the corner, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “If you guys are going to be using that mirror, I’m going back out.”

You smiled at Sam mischievously. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Yeah, ok.” He grabbed his computer and headed out.

“Bring me some pie!” Dean called after Sam as he rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.

You winced in pain as Dean snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer on the bed, so your head was resting on his chest. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ribs. Ow. Ow.”

“Oh sorry. Forgot.” He took his arm away from your side as fast as possible. “I’ll just put my hand here, instead.” He rested his hand on your boob. 

“Classy, Winchester.”

“Would you rather this?” He put his hand over your entire face. You slapped it away laughing. He settled for resting his arm against yours and holding your hand.

“You know, I’m not the one with super-healing here. You gotta be careful with me. Speaking of which.”

“Yes?”

“If you came back with everything on you healed up. All your scars healed and whatnot. How does that affect circumcision?”

A sly smile came across your face as looked up at him.

“You are welcome to inspect.” He said with a smile.

“You sure do know how to sweet talk a gal.”

Dean tilted his head down and kissed you, gently on the lips, his hand cupping your face. This evolved into a full on face battle. Injured torso be damned, you had not had a makeout sesh with Dean Winchester for 4 months and you were not going to let a little thing like blinding pain get in the way. Damn, you’d almost forgotten how good his lips felt against yours. You’d almost forgotten how he felt against you. You’d almost forgotten him. him. Him. Really and truly, him. He was more than eager to remind you of everything.

However, as they are wont to do, the monsters had different plans. Just as things started going from PG-13 to NC-17 (because, of course, anything that shows a woman enjoying herself is automatically more abhorrent than wanton violence. Gimme a break, MPAA) the TV flipped on to loud static. You and Dean locked eyes and sighed. Not again. Then came the sonic boom. The mirror above the bed, the TV screen and the windows shattered into a million pieces. You and Dean ducked for cover onto the floor, Dean protecting you from much of the glass. 

Then you hightailed it out of there.

________________________________ 

“Okay, this is really getting old, now.” you said as you peeled away in the first car Dean was able to hotwire. Apparently, Sam decided he needed the Impala to do his “going back out” in and when a monster was on your tail it was better to be on wheels than on your feet. Hence, the grand theft auto.

“Yeah, this Castiel is turning out to be a major cockblock.” he continued “We have to stop this, whatever it is. This is getting ridiculous.”

“Yeah, windows are expensive. That is definitely going on Sam’s incidentals. Okay, so whatever it was blinded Pam because it didn’t want her to see it’s face. So maybe it’s really ugly.”

Dean shot you a look.

“Or not. Point is she didn’t see it and we don’t actually know what we’re up against.”

“Yeah, but we have a name.”

“Great lot of good that’ll do us. It’s not like there’s a demon facebook, you know. Wait…you’re not thinking of summoning this thing are you?”

Dean shoots you a knowing look.

He’s got to be kidding. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I’d hate to break our pattern here.”

“And I don’t suppose you want to wait for Sammy?”

“He’s not picking up his phone. We need to do this now.” Dammit, where was he?

“Fine, but we need to pick up a few things. Just because we’re doing something incredibly stupid doesn’t mean we have to be stupid about it.”

Dean didn’t want to let you come along, but as he knew there was no letting you do anything. After Hell, well, you weren’t letting him out of your sight. Always seemed to get into more trouble without supervision, than he did with his little guardian angel around (you, you’re the guardian angel), he did, that Winchester boy. 

You stopped at a hardware store for the essentials: knives, iron, silver, salt, holy water (actually you had to swing by a church for that), stakes, some kind of blood (why did they have that?!), paint and of course Twizzlers, because, Twizzlers.

So, in the end it was just you and the boy who came back barreling toward a barnyard in the middle of nowhere, towards the unknown monster and the unknown future. 

_________________________ 

Inside the drafty barn, you sat on the edge of a table loaded with various weapons, swinging your legs, terribly bored. Dean paced the length of the barn. Once you arrived at the barn you had spent the better part of three hours on your little art installation. If it were at the MOCA you could have called it something like “Survival in the 21st”, but as it was not, let’s just called it what it was – covering your asses. At some point in the three hours of painting traps and wardings from every known religion and culture on the walls and ceiling of the structure, you got bored and painted a few Artist Formerly Known as Prince symbols. Point is, you two should’ve been safe from whatever beastie would have arrived. 

Dean inspected one of the symbols on the wall.

“Is this Blue Oyster Cult?”

Whoops! Forgot you did that one.

“Time check.”

You looked at your watch. “It’s been a half hour.”

“Did you do it right?”

“I think so, but my latin’s always been a little rusty. All the prefixes and suffixes and middles of the words.”

Just then, as if on cue, a loud rattling shakes the roof. 

“Did we summon Santa?!” you yell hysterically.

The barn doors burst open. A dark figure in a trenchcoat stalked in. The industrial overhead lights exploded as he walked beneath them sending down a shower of sparks upon his shoulders that he just could not give a fuck about. Amid the chaos you were able to catch that he was actually pretty attractive. All blue eyes, backwards tie and bedhead that probably took 3 hours of hard work to achieve. But then again, lots of evil things were deceptively beautiful. 

Dean surreptitiously grabbed a knife off the table and edged toward what must have been Castiel.

“Who are you?”

With a voice as low as the grave, Castiel answered. “I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdit—-who’s that?” Castiel pointed towards you. 

“Hi” you waved awkwardly at the angel.

Dean wiped his hand across his face. “Y/N, don’t wave at the evil demon.”

“Sorry.”

Dean sighed. “That’s Y/N. She’s my girlfriend.”

Castiel made a move towards you. Dean reared back and plunged the knife deep into Castiel’s chest. Cas did not even flinch. He merely grasped it, unconcerned, pulled it from his chest and sent it clattering to the floor. This was, obviously, one badass Mammer Jammer. One, ridiculously good looking badass Mammer Jammer. 

Without really thinking you grabbed a shillelagh off the table (you’d told Dean it would come in handy) and ran at Castiel, intending to attack him. 

Instead, he grabbed your shillelagh, whipped you around, touched two fingers to your head and you were out like a light, crumpling to the ground. Smooth move, Ferguson. 

As you passed out you caught Castiel saying to Dean: “We need to talk, alone.”

Dean crouched over you, checking your pulse. “What the hell did you do to her?!” 

“She is alive. Who is she, really?”

“Who’s she? Who are you?!”

“Castiel. An angel of the lord. I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. I know that you are Dean Winchester. You are the righteous man. I know everybody on this plane of existence.”

“Well, good for you, Mr. Popular.” Dean interrupted.

“But what I do not know is who that is.”

“I told you. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Dean Winchester does not have a significant other.”

“Well, reread your file.”

Castiel approached your unconscious body. Dean made a move to stop him.

“Dean. I do not wish to hurt her. I just need to see.”

“See what?”

“Inside.”

“Oh, Hell no.”

“I assure you it is not at all invasive.”

Dean let Cas passed. Castiel made a sweep of his fingers over your forehead scanning. 

“She doesn’t belong here.”

“Yeah. I know. It was a mistake to take her along.”

“Not here. She doesn’t belong in this reality not to mention your timeline. She was not supposed to be here. Not originally.”

“What?” Dean was thoroughly confused now as Quantum Physics is something of a hefty topic.

“Something’s changed.”

“Come on. What is this The Matrix? Wait. IS this the Matrix!?”

“No, this is not a mass of fine grained rock. Your ‘girlfriend’ as you call her appears to have been torn out of time and space and placed here. The question is, why?”

“Yeah. Why the hell am I even listening to you?”

“Because you know. You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but even now you can see two different versions of this reality. THINK: How did you meet this person?”

Dean suddenly became very interested in picking the dirt from under his nail.

“How does a hunter meet anybody? She saved my ass from a shifter.”

It’s true, you had met Dean on a hunt for a shapeshifter in St. Louis. You had stumbled upon the shifter’s lair in the sewers and found Dean and Sam tied up and passed out there. Upon waking Dean, he informed you to hurry, that the shifter would be back soon and might look like him. Damn, there were two of this gorgeous creature walking around? That shifter had good taste. You untied him and Sam and yadda yadda yadda good triumphed evil and you got a new couple of friends. One a lot friendlier than the other. 

“And can’t you also remember Sam doing that?”

Dean thought for a moment and instead of you stumbling upon him and Sam in the sewer, he could now distinctly remember Sam escaping his restraints and saving his ass instead.

As this realization washed over Dean, frustration rose in his face and settled in his eyes as the beginning of tears. 

“What the hell did you do to me?!” He stalked toward the angel, grabbing him by the lapels.

“I didn’t change anything, Dean.”

Dean dropped him.

“Oh yeah? You raise me from hell. You heal my wounds. Why couldn’t you have messed with my memories?”

“It is true that since we have much work for you a girlfriend would only serve as further distraction, but I assure you if we wanted to erase somebody they would be gone.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back tears. “Then what is she?

“Someone who cares.”

You said, suddenly awake and standing behind him.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Dean was really losing his shit now. You put your hands on his face trying to calm him down. He gave you that look that was a mixture of longing, affection and pain. So much pain. The tears were coming in earnest now. He steeled himself and ripped your hands off of him.

“Just don’t don’t touch me, ok.”

“Dean. Dean. Wait. Just.”

With everything he had left, he turned and looked you in the eye. 

“Suppose you were really really good. And you really really needed somebody. Suppose you wished really hard.” Tears filled your eyes “And hoped and prayed. Suppose that sometimes the universe screws up. Or maybe the universe rewards you. It’s true I’m not from here. But I love you Dean. I do. I love you so so much.”

You made a move toward him but he put his hands up to stop you.

“I love you so much that when my reality died. When my universe died out, I was sent here. I got to come here and be with you.”

“Why?”

“I think because you needed me just as much as I needed you. You needed someone besides your girls and your booze, besides Bobby, besides even Sam.” Dean softened towards you. “And I’m sorry that I never told you until now. But, you know it’s a little hard to describe the multiverse theory when you yourself have no clue how it works. Poor excuse, I know. And I don’t even know what I want from you now. I don’t know what I want to happen or how I can make it up to you. I just….that’s what’s going on with me, what’s going on with you. What’s going on in there? ”

Dean sniffled and wiped the tears off his face with both hands. 

“I don’t know what or who you are.” Dean turned away from you. “And you more than anyone know that I am not quick to forgive anyone. But I think that…” Dean turned back towards you just in time to see Castiel bury his angel blade in your chest up to its hilt. The lights in your eyes blinked out as your lifeless body crumpled to the ground, your hair splayed across your face. 

Dean was rooted to the spot, completely horrorstruck, shaking. He looked at Castiel, tears beginning to fill his eyes again.

“She was never supposed to be here.”

Castiel explained stepping closer to Dean.

“Now. We have work for you.”

________________________________________

OR IT COULD HAVE HAPPENED LIKE THIS

The barn doors burst open. A dark figure in a trenchcoat stalked in. The industrial overhead lights exploded as he walked beneath them sending down a shower of sparks upon his shoulders to which he paid little mind.

Dean surreptitiously grabbed a knife off the table and edged toward what must have been Castiel.

“Who are you?”

With a voice as low as the grave, Castiel answered. “I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdit—-who’s that?” Castiel pointed towards you. 

“What?”

“That.” Castiel said pointing again at you.

“Oh. That’s Y/N. She’s my girlfriend.”

“How is that possible?”

“Oh, you know. You meet somebody, you click…”

“Dean, I don’t think you are fully understanding what I am saying. How are you a human being dating a cat?”

You rubbed up against Dean’s leg, purring. He picked you up and held you to his face.

“You’re a cat!? Why didn’t you tell me?” He demanded, eyes tearing up.

You meowed in response and wiped at his tears with your little kitty paws. Castiel was right, you had been a cat this whole time.

________________________________ 

OH MAN; THAT’S NOT GOOD EITHER. HOW ABOUT THE DESTIEL VERSION?

The barn doors burst open. A dark figure in a trenchcoat stalked in. The industrial overhead lights exploded as he walked beneath them sending down a shower of sparks upon his shoulders that he just could not give a fuck about. Amid the chaos you were able to catch that he was actually pretty attractive. Like damn sexy. All blue eyes, backwards tie and bedhead that probably took 3 hours of hard work to achieve. 

“Who are you?” Dean questioned what must have been Castiel.

“I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdit—-who the shit is that?” Castiel gestured toward you.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, nice to meet”

Cas didn’t let you finish. “I did not ask you to speak. I was asking him.”

“That’s my girlfriend, Y/N.” Dean provided.

“So, let me get this straight- I spent 40 years searching for you in hell, oh by the way, yeah I raised you from hell, not Miss Thang over there and you’re telling me you have a girlfriend.”

“Yes?”

“Oiad amma Ol malpirg” Cas said in what seemed to be the enochian equivalent of “fuck my life.”

“Thank you for saving me?” Dean offered.

“You know what? No, I’m out. Deal with the fucking apocalypse yourself, RighteousMan.”

Castiel disappeared from the barn to the sound of flapping wings.

“He seemed nice….” You said.

___________________________________

RIGHT. SEVERELY LACKING. OKAY, ONE LAST TRY.

“Did you do the ritual right?” Dean asked you. At this point it had been a half hour since you cast the summoning spell and even you were beginning to have your doubts as to whether you’d done it right.

“Maybe yes. Maybe no.”

Just then, as if on cue, a loud rattling shakes the roof. 

“It’s Santa! I know him!” you yelled.

The barn doors burst open. It was not Santa. (Awwwww, man. It’s never Santa. L) It was an incredibly attractive man in a trenchcoat. He stalked in blowin’ up all the lights, causing all manner of sexy atmospheric sparks to rain down over him. It was like a Madonna music video, before her elbows got weird. The trenchcoated man’s amazing blue eyes seemed to contain all the secrets of the universe, plus a few good recipes for quiche.

Dean surreptitiously grabbed a knife off the table and edged toward what must have been Castiel.

“Who are you?”

With a voice as low as the grave, Castiel answered. “I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdit—-who’s that?” Castiel pointed towards you. 

“Hi, beautiful man!” you waved excitedly at the man.

Dean gave you a wtf face.

Dean sighed. “That’s Y/N. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Dean Winchester does not have a girlfriend.”

“Uh. Yeah he does I’m standing right here.”

“I’d like to speak to Dean alone.” Castiel touched two fingers to your forehead. And was surprised when nothing happened. Was something supposed to happen when he did that? He touched your head with a look of determination. Still nothing. You locked eyes. The intensity and sheer infinitesimal power behind his baby blues almost crumpling you to your knees on their own. He backed off. Was he embarrassed?

“I’m sorry. This has never happened to me before.” 

"Listen, it’s fine. I’m sure it happens to a lot of guys…" you consoled him.

“I’m just very confused. Dean, you are not supposed to have a girlfriend in this reality. And I do not recognize her as anybody living or dead from this plane of existence and I know everybody.”

“Oh, Mr. Popular over here.” You said to Dean putting a hand up to face in a mock whisper.

Dean had been watching the proceedings in silent confusion just awed by the whole wtf-ness of the situation. He broke his silence: “Who are you???” 

“Oh, sorry, yes. I am Castiel. Angel of the lord.”

“Why are you dressed like a tax accountant?”

“This is merely my vessel. My true form is roughly the size of your Chrysler building.”

“What do you mean that she wasn’t supposed to be in this reality?”

“It appears as though your timeline has been altered. Perhaps she is a fragment of a destroyed universe, which hurtled itself through time and space attaching itself to our reality and timeline where it was not conceived of before.”

“What?”

Castiel sighed “…or, maybe she’s my brother in drag.”

“What?”

Gabriel hopped in place where you had been standing not two seconds before. He made a grand gesture with his arms. “Ta-da!” You were nowhere to be found.

“Trickster” Dean said with as much venom as he could muster. “I should’ve known this had your skeeze all over it. What did you do with Y/N?”

“Uhhh… didn’t do anything with so much as I am her. She is me. We are the same. You’ve been dating me.”

“No. no. No no no. No way! What did you do with her!?” Dean screeched, losing it.

“Wow he is not getting it, is he?” Gabriel asked Castiel. “Okay. Let me slow it down for you, Home Skillet. I have been pretending to be a hunter named Y/N for the past, oh, three years. You’ve been catfished, bud.”

“Also, he’s not a trickster. He’s the archangel Gabriel.” Cas tacked on for good measure.

“Gabriel. Not Gabrielle?” Dean asked, grasping at straws as his world crumbled all around him.

“Relax, Alpha Male, angels are genderless. We’re just wavelengths of celestial intent as my little bro over there is so fond of saying.”

“Gabriel, why did you do this?” Castiel asked you.

“What? I wanted to see what your affinity for the so-called ‘righteous man’ was all about. Gotta say. I definitely see it. I mean look at that shana punam.” You gestured to Dean’s incredibly pissed off face. “Look at those emerald pools of sex he’s got for eyes. Who wouldn’t love him?”

“That’s ridiculous I do not love him.”

“Dude, you searched for him for 40 years.

“Because it was God’s decree.”

“Yeah, just keep telling yourself that.”

Dean was now 110% done. “Okay hold up! Time out! I just met him” he gestured to Cas “and you’re my girlfriend” he pointed at you/Gabriel “but you’re actually a trickster angel whatever”

“Go on” you interjected

“who altered my reality? Did you mess with my brain?”

“Oh Dean, Dean, Dean. I was your girlfriend. Of course I messed with your brain!” You slapped his face playfully. He smacked your hand away.

“Be careful with the merchandise. I mean what if I looked like this.” Gabriel said morphing back into the Dean’s girlfriend form. “You wouldn’t hit your girlfriend, would you?”

“You’re not my girlfriend.”

“That’s just hurtful.” Gabriel slipped back into his male form.

Dean rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. Perhaps to stop his brain from cracking apart. “Okay. I’m going to go find the bottom of a bottle.”

Dean left the barn leaving just you (Gabriel) and Castiel.

“But we have work for you!” Castiel called after Dean “What’s the matter? You think you don’t deserve to be saved?”

“He’s gone.” You said.

“I know. You altered space and time just to annoy me.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Also, he had a nice tush.”

At that, Castiel flitted away.

“Oh come on! I’m sure you can get him back. Don’t be angry.”


End file.
